


Something To Be Said

by Outofangband



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: After the War of Wrath, I am actually relatively proud of this?, Maedhros and Fingon, Valinor, could be romantic or friendship, only ONE mention of torture by Morgoth or at all, which is very good for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 02:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Outofangband/pseuds/Outofangband
Summary: Maedhros and Fingon, back in Valinor after the War of Wrath, have the chance to thank the being who helped to save Maedhros's life.Originally posted on Tumblr. It is rare for my stories to be so...not dark.





	Something To Be Said

**Author's Note:**

> This fic also mentions Maedhros's lizards which may not be familiar to those who have not read my headcanons and fics on my blog but they are not a huge part of the story.

The morning was bright and cool, the first signs that the season was starting to change in the rustling leaves and later, golden light. It was not often that Findekáno woke as early as his cousin but excitement for the coming weeks and lack of proper bedclothes had pulled him out of his room only ten minutes after Maedhros had awoken and positioned himself on the rug in the main room, feeding Sprout. Careful not to startle the other, Fingon waited until he was in Maedhros’s line of sight before greeting him cheerfully, taking two grapes for himself from the bowel beside the tiny lizard. His cousin smiled and flicked his hand playfully, too focused on his task to bother with chastising him.   
    The morning continued with a slow peace. Maedhros even ate a bit of oatmeal, which was an uncommon event in and of itself. He rarely ate in the mornings, despite how many times his cousin and uncle lectured him on it. After all the household chores were done, or at least, the lizards and turtle were fed and Fingon made a half hearted attempt to organize some of the papers he had been using when Maedhros tried to teach him to draw, the two decided to go for a walk. There was some gathering in town today so the trails were almost completely deserted, which was why Maedhros had agreed to go. Most days, he prefered to avoid the possibility of running into any elves or other beings.   
    As they walked, Fingon periodically reached for his cousin’s hand, squeezing gently and running ahead, sometimes a moment before letting go. Finally, Maedhros gave up and followed quickly after him. Through the breaks in the trees, sunlight brightened Maedhros’s hair so it appeared light and golden as Fingon tilted his head back and laughed. His own hair was tied back in braids though these were messy and disheveled from having been done too quickly, as well as the few times Fingon had purposely fallen into piles of leaves. It was almost two hours after leaving the house that Maedhros finally decided to walk up to the hill at the edge of the forest before turning back. Sensing how tired his cousin was getting, Fingon agreed.   
     The two held hands as they climbed, Fingon’s boots too old and worn for the terrain. At the top, they sat together, Fingon’s head on Maedhros’s shoulder. Despite being an hour before midday, the height gave the illusion of watching the sunrise as light could be seen spreading out over the lands. Maedhros picked several small leaves and other forest debris out of the other’s braids. Fingon promptly put them back. Maedhros shook his head but continued smiling. After giving a five minute warning, Maedhros lay back, watching the sky. It seemed to be gold with no direct center of light. He had almost fallen into a half sleeping state when a soft gasp from Fingon brought him quickly back to a sitting position. Before panic could rise in him, however, he turned to see a look of quiet wonder, rather than fear on his cousin’s face. Fingon stood facing the west, one arm outstretched. Maedhros got to his feet and blinked several times, adjusting his eyes to the change in light. He was about to ask what it was that caused the other such awe when he saw it. Far, far above the trees of the seemingly distant forest, a large, dark shape drew closer. At first, Maedhros thought it was a trick of the height and space but as the creature came nearer to them, he saw that it was indeed as large as it first appeared. What was more, he recognized him. Thorondor, the most magnificent of all Manwë’s eagles, a being straight out of a dream.   
    “Nelyo…” Fingon trailed off in a hushed tone. He took his cousin’s hand again, “Nelyo...look!”   
      “I see,” Maedhros murmured back. Tears stung his eyes though he was not quite certain what the cause for them was. He could not make out any specific source of sadness or emotion.   
    The eagle seemed to be heading for the city to the East. Maedhros and Fingon both tiled their heads back to watch him fly away, surprised and slightly afraid when instead, he descended quickly and gracefully to land twenty paces from them halfway down the hill. Fingon was the first to approach. Maedhros felt his breath catch in his throat, feeling unable to speak. It took several minutes before he could bring himself to follow.   
Maedhros had not quite realized how large the creature was. With his beak bowed, he had to stand several paces away from Fingon to be able to look into his eyes. In truth, Maedhros had not remembered much about the Eagle, having been delirious and barely conscious for the entire journey. He had not even known he had taken it until almost a week later. Up close, Thorondor seemed to be fifty or more colors, each one shimmering along his great wings. Shades of white, brown, silver, gold, and bronze dazzled his eyes.   
Fingon seemed to be speaking in a whisper. The bird’s head was tilted to the side, listening. Maedhros didn’t have to move much closer to know what was being said.   
        “Th-thank you,” Fingon said softly, “Thank you for everything. I...I cannot think now what would have…” he notices Maedhros behind him and reaches once more for his hand. The Eagle seems to nod, his eyes moving onto the redheaded elf.   
      “I can only echo his words,” Maedhros says softly. He had not been prepared to think about such things this morning and is afraid that if he elaborates more, he will start to cry. He has no doubt that if he was not rescued and he had not died, Morgoth would have simply brought him back, continued to hurt him until...he did not know. Whatever forever was, he supposed. Maedhros shuddered.  
    “Thank you,” he whispers. The eagle extends his beak. It takes the two a moment to realize that he is offering a show of affection. With shaking hands, Maedhros reaches out to stroke Thorondor’s feathers. Fingon does the same though with much less hesitance. Maedhros cannot tell very well but he thinks the bird looks happy. After a minute or two, he straightens out. Fingon pulls his cousin backwards as the creature spreads his magnificent wings. He is large enough to cast a shadow upon the two elves. They are hit with a burst of wind that seems tinted with all the scents of a clean sky as he takes off, soon soaring again above the forest.   
    Still holding hands, Fingon and Maedhros continue down the hill towards home. Though it is still only midday, they are both exhausted enough to finish the walk in silence. Once home, Maedhros sits back down with Sprout, lost in thought. Fingon sits on a chair, cross legged and rocking back and forth. He watches the small lizard crawl up and down his cousin’s arm.   
“Nelyo?” he asks softly.   
    “Yes?”  
    “I love you.”   
    Maedhros looks up, tilting his head so he can address Fingon while still watching Sprout.  
“I love you too.” 


End file.
